When we were younger
by alifestylechoice
Summary: When we were younger, we had all the time in the world, even as missiles flew through the air and our breaths caught in our throats. Dorothy / Relena, DxR.


**Title:** When we were younger   
**Author:** alifestylechoice   
**Fandom:** Gundam Wing (Relena/Dorothy)   
**Rating:** R (Hard sex, but it's sort of...vague...in places...)   
**Words: **1,204   
**Summary:** When we were younger, we had all the time in the world, even as missiles flew through the air and our breaths caught in our throats.

_A/N: Shout out to the GW fandom. All...two that are left. Including myself. So, this is for the one person who will read this. Actually, they might not even read this because it's about the ladies instead of the pilots. So, I guess I'm all by myself here. Sigh.._

**When we were younger**

When I say, "when we were younger," the eternity that was but two or three years ago, springs to mind both fresh and hazy. When I say, "when we were younger," I mean the days when you were obsessed with the beauty of war, and I was just a naive inconvenience to your values.

When we were younger, we didn't want to die, and thought it might be a burden on others if we did. So, we lived.

The moment you walked into the Sanq Kingdom, hair down and free, collar high and suffocating, hips rocking with stone sturdiness, Pagan gave me warning. Watch out for her, he said. I defended myself, stuck to my ideals like the stubborn way you push my hands aside now and tell me to relax. I told him that you were just a student, another one here to learn and to report back. I welcomed your assertiveness and even your rejection. The way you picked at me with a fine toothed comb, waiting for me to slip up, waiting for my certainty to waver, and to rush into war with you. I never rushed into anything then.

When we were younger, we had all the time in the world, even as missiles flew through the air and our breaths caught in our throats.

This is the stuff of my dreams, and I open my eyes, gasping for air. The first thing I see is the slopes of your stomach, pale in the starlight seeping through the window. I'm cold, and my arms move to pull the blankets up, but warmth already envelops me, the quilt pulled up to my chin.

"You're cold because you were sweating. It's cold. The night air."

Your voice is a whisper, but I feel it in my chest. You sit up in bed, your pale skin radiant and warm. I'm cold, clammy, uninviting. I stick to you as I sit up, holding my head in one hand and pulling the covers around us with the other. My temples are pounding and I rest my head on my knees. You sit so still, looking at me so calmly, unmoving.

"Your head hurts. Did you dream?"

I squint my eyes. The stars are blinding.

"Just dreaming a little about...when we were younger."

You nod.

The window is open, and the streets below are quiet. No people or animals to make noise, break the silence. I sigh loudly, perhaps to show proof of humanity in this moment.

"Dorothy..." I trail off.

You are on top of me in a second. Your hips rock into mine, and you wince, ever so slightly. The sound of them crashing into each other is volumes louder in your mind, which can't seem to let go of mobile suits, and battle, and victory. You always want my quiet. Your thin arms hold you above me, your hair spills onto my bare chest and I forget about peace and death and am captivated by the wetness of your lips. I always want your urgency.

We have done this dance before; we will do it until we die, or if we ever figure out that we don't have to. For now, it is enough to know that the past is unforgettable, a comfort and a nightmare.

Since the day we met, you have scrutinized me for any weaknesses, so it came as no surprise that when your teeth find the spot between my shoulder and neck, I crumble, grasp desperately to your wrists. You know you can possess me. You have judged me as long as I can remember. Somewhere between these judgments, your hand met mine, and I showed you I wasn't scared. Not anymore.

Because now that we're older, we are two of the few who decided that our darkness was part of ourselves, and to hide it was to suppress our freedom. We challenged those that hide from the world, for we have both put our hearts on display. We have been to hell and back, but have always been naked, never betraying our true intention.

When you have nothing to hide, things become easy, like the way you slip in and out of me. The more I open my legs, the deeper you penetrate. Our teeth click together, my brow furrows. What is difficult, is when you bare everything, and still feel empty. Maybe that's why I keep returning to you. I find myself in front of your house before knowing it was my destination.

Was it so brave and daring to do the things we did? Was it so life-affirming or fulfilling for us, sixteen years young, to find heroes in rebels and find answers in stubbornness? Our breaths hitch as you slide against me. You pull out to hook my leg over your shoulder. My sex is throbbing--everything is wound up tight and tense, pulsing. I want you back inside, so, so deep, moving me like the puppet that I thought I was. When your fingers sink into me again, my stomach tightens and I feel you sculpting my insides.

"More," I spit out, and she obliges. Harder. My nails dig into her back; I reach down and feel her wetness. You make a sound, so, so softly; I can never tell if it's a grunt or a sigh. Faster. You make my insides twist, and I rock against you. I choke on my screams, never wanting to break the hushed quiet, or you might stop. My hand shakes as it finds your slit, and you make the loudest sound I've ever heard you make, lips buried in my neck, halfway sobbing. Perhaps you're thinking about when we were younger, too. But we don't read each other's faces; our eyes are closed tight, and we feel, and feel, sweat gathering and flesh sliding. You clench tightly around me.

"Right there," you whisper. "God, Relena. Right there."

I come too quickly and my body contracts, mouth open. You sigh and pull your hand out to grab mine, squeezing your sex with both our tiny hands, small noises emerging from the back of your throat that disappear the moment they arrive. Your breath is loud and tickles my neck, but I'm so, so hot and it washes over my face like the rain. I squeeze your arms so that you stabilize, the brief disconnect like horrific rejection until my mouth meets your sex, and in spite of my earlier ministrations, you collapse forward, grinding your clit into my tongue. You taste bitter and heavy, and I moan heavily into your body. Small curses leave your mouth, moans like coughs, regurgitating sighs into the sheets. You come, your thighs tightly tensed, and I feel the tremors of your sex through my mouth and fingers.

I tell my people that they finally have the freedom they've always wanted, that they deserve. You cup my head in your hands, and we hold each other, muscles tensing. Are we really that free, when the days of when we were younger have caged us? When we were younger, we were free and knew everything; now, we question freedom as we claw at each other to find our identity, lost somewhere on the battlefield.

-end-

_Thanks for reading--please review if you have the time!_


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